


tell me what you like (it's okay, i'm curious too)

by orphan_account



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys in Skirts, Crossdressing Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Feminization, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Under-negotiated Kink, malum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:23:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5097257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Somehow, telling Calum straight up that he may want to fuck him while he wears women’s clothing doesn’t seem like the brightest idea Michael’s ever had.</em>
</p><p>or: It’s an amalgamation of things Michael never would have considered: Ashley’s wig and a tight jean skirt.</p><p>Also: Calum.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell me what you like (it's okay, i'm curious too)

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit, okay, so this is my first work for 5sos and I'm really excited but also really nervous hah. I'm gonna keep this short and sweet, but thank you so much to my friend Nat who had to deal with me for the two months I spent writing this, and also Angie (dafeedil) who was super kind enough to look over this first I can't thank you enough :'(
> 
> I hope you enjoy and happy reading :)

In theory, the boys all have the right to do whatever they want in their free time with a little bit of privacy. Michael knows this. Luke and Calum head out at night to party, Ashton splits his time as evenly as he can between Bryana and his family, and Michael sequesters himself to his man-cave. Also in theory, but more of an actual fact: there’s only so much privacy you can keep to yourself when you’re in a band and when you’re in a band with four of your best and only mates. Michael knows this as well.

They’re in Perth on a day off and everyone is doing their own thing. Ashton’s brought Harry, Lauren and Anne so they can spend some time together in the city, Luke’s got a hangover and doesn’t want to be bothered, and Michael is _so_ bored. Calum is apparently hanging out with Eki, but Michael hasn’t seen any posts on Snapchat or Instagram, so he supposes they’re still inside the hotel. 

The whole of the _Pokemon: Indigo League_ is on Netflix and Michael decides he wants company for a marathon. He sends Calum a quick _Netflix and chill? ;)_ text before reassuring himself that Calum will be at the door with Eki in tow before the episode’s half over.

Twenty-two minutes later and still without Calum, Michael checks his phone to see that he hadn’t even texted back. Frowning, Michael sends an _I’ll even watch digimon instead_ even though Pokemon is by far the more superior choice and Calum’s taste in cartoons is shit. Without waiting for a reply, Michael starts on the second episode. By the time Team Rocket is breaking into the Pokemon Centre, Michael is pausing the episode and frowning at his phone some more. Peeved with the lack of response and lonely enough to do something about it, Michael ventures down to the front desk in the lobby to get a spare key for Calum’s room- because privacy is just a theory after all.

Standing before the door to Calum’s room, desperate for attention, Michael doesn’t think twice about sliding the room key through the lock. Suddenly, Pokemon is the farthest thing from his mind. Michael blinks, heart kicking up in his chest. The room is silent, Calum and Eki so still that Michael can hear his own breathing ringing in his ears. 

Calum slowly pulls himself away from the wall, eyes wide and on Michael. Even at the distance Michael is from him, he can still see Calum’s chest rising and falling erratically. It’s easy because Calum’s shirtless. In fact, Calum’s only in his boxers. Michael will admit he’s walked in on Calum doing weird shit a lot. He’s walked in on a lot of weird shit when it comes to Calum. It’s a small price to pay when you don’t care about privacy or boundaries. But the pastel purple and blue hair extension wound into Calum’s own dark curls takes the cake.

Michael blinks, speechless for the first time in a long time.

Calum’s voice sounds too unfamiliar, too high, as it cuts through the heavy silence. “Uhm. Hi. Mike?”

“You, uhm.” Michael licks at his lips, eyes following the unnatural strand of hair until it brushes Calum’s collar bone. “Didn’t reply to my texts.”

Calum stares straight back at Michael, fingers tangling in the strand as he opens his mouth and stalls- like he doesn’t know what to say.

Not even Eki speaks up. She just lowers her phone, doesn’t offer an explanation to Michael either. Was she recording him? Michael’s mind races. Taking pictures? He could really use an answer right now.

“Cal?” Michael never thought the name would feel so foreign on his tongue. He swallows hard, watching as Calum’s fingers twirl the fake hair absentmindedly until Calum finally realizes, nearly ripping the extension from his head. It’s pretty, Michael muses to himself as he watches it flutter down. 

Calum still has a steady, levelled gaze on him when he looks back up.

Michael waits, and still nothing.

Suddenly, it occurs to Michael that this isn’t private, this is Private with a capital ‘P’ and how could he have not known about this? Calum’s been his best friend since before being in a band was ever a thought in their heads and Michael knows the kid likes to wear panties for fuck’s sake.

Michael pointedly decides then that he Does Not need to know what was happening in here and backs out of the doorway slowly.

“I’ll just.” He doesn’t know what to say. “I’ll ask Luke.” What is there to say, really? “Or someone. It’s cool. Sorry about that.”

A little too late, Calum seems to find his voice. “Mike, wait.”

Michael doesn’t slam the door behind him but the bang still startles him; still heightens his senses with the spike of adrenaline. Michael doesn’t go to find Luke, or Ashton even. Instead, Michael makes a tactical retreat back to his own room and barricades himself in there for the rest of the night, submerging himself in the streets of Grand Theft Auto to dull the buzzing he’s pushed to the back of his mind.

Michael doesn’t know why Calum was posing flush against the wall in nothing but his underwear and that stupid blue hair extension. He doesn’t think he wants to know.

.

He doesn’t want to know, but it keeps haunting him. The harder he squeezes his eyelids shut, the clearer the image of Calum with his chest and hands pressed up against the wall gets. It gets clearer and clearer until spots start exploding behind his retinas and his eyelids ache.

Calum pretends Michael never caught him, so Michael pretends he didn’t catch Calum either. Eki doesn’t say anything the rest of the two days she’s with them in Perth, but something shifts between her and Michael. He watches her whenever she pulls out her phone, wondering if there are still pictures of Calum on there or if she deleted them out of embarrassment. He wonders if she sent them to Calum. He kind of wants to see them. 

She can’t look Michael in the eye.

.

Maybe Michael can’t pretend it never happened, but he sure does try. He fails spectacularly.

.

In Melbourne, things seem to settle back to normal between Michael and Calum. Michael is grateful, even if sometimes he catches himself wondering what happened to the hair extension.

After the show, all four boys dart off stage, pushing and shoving and laughing as they only half listen to demands to be on the bus in fifteen minutes. Ashton grabs a water bottle and heads for the showers, Luke trails behind to smack Calum on the back, and Michael wonders what Luke would do if he were in his shoes. He’d probably blush, get so flustered he’d stammer and stutter, probably wouldn’t be able to look Calum in the eye for a proper week. Ashton would probably act all macho and manly about it and refuse to acknowledge the existence of that part of Calum’s life, say it’s none of his business.

Luke breaks from Calum, dodging members from their crew. Michael moves in, bumping Calum’s shoulder with his own. The way Calum tenses throws Michael off, making him wonder what’s wrong even when Calum turns to him with a bright smile on his face and moves to ruffle his hair.

“Great show!” He whoops.

Despite the sour feeling in his stomach, Michael can’t help smiling back. “Wanna celebrate with some Fifa?”

Calum’s smile finally falters and anxiety hits Michael like a punch in the gut- because something is still wrong. 

“Hotel night?” Calum offers up instead. “Kinda tired.”

Michael lifts his eyebrows in what he hopes looks like surprise; he doesn’t trust himself to force a smile and get away with it properly.

“Yeah,” he says carefully. “Sure. No problem.”

It wasn’t even that big of a deal. Michael had thought they were over this. Is Calum really still odd about it- the incident? Michael wonders.

Two days later, Michael discovers that inviting Calum over for a an intensely awkward game of Fifa is the worst idea he’s ever had in his life.

Calum groans in frustration as his player, right in the middle of a kick, is frozen on the spot. He slams his controller against the floor as he glares towards Michael, outraged he’d sabotage his play to pause the game.

“What the fuck, Mike! I was gonna score, you bitch!” Calum shoves at his shoulder.

Michael simply shrugs. It’s not uncommon for him to cheat at Fifa like this when he feels he’s being cheated or beaten by too big a point score. It’s 5-12, but Calum winning is the last thing on his mind this time. 

Calum immediately deflates without Michael’s usual aggressive rebuttal. Confusion softens the anger from his features when he goes, “what?”

Michael licks at his lips, unsure of where he’s going with this- he hadn’t had much of a plan after he had gotten Calum’s attention. He wants to ask if this is okay- if they’re okay, yet the words freeze in his throat, leaving him with a strangled “um” that he hopes Calum will understand.

Instead, Calum’s eyebrows crease harder. He shakes his head, repeating expectantly: “what the fuck?” Like Michael will have a good excuse for screwing his goal over. 

Michael gulps, thinking that maybe it’s just him who feels awkward. Maybe it’s all in his own head, even that moment back in Melbourne.

“Cal, I need…” Michael scrunches his nose, scratches hard at the nape of his neck because how is he even speaking right now? “I, uh. I need to ask you something.”

Something flashes in Calum’s eyes and suddenly his whole demeanour changes, growing small and quiet and tense just like at the Melbourne show while he waits for Michael to finish. He shifts on his bum impatiently.

“About the other day-“ Michael tries again.

Calum is quick to cut in though. “You didn’t want to talk about it, Mike.” There’s no bite to his words, no accusation. He states it like a simple fact, done and over. And he isn’t wrong. He’s right, and Michael feels chastised for it. 

“Is- is Eki okay?” He asks. Calum blinks, dumbfounded, and Michael wants to snort, because really, who’s thinking about Eki? 

Michael pushes it though. 

“Because she seemed a bit weird after- after…” Christ, he can’t even say it. His heart feels like it’s pounding in his throat just at the thought that he’s so close to bringing it up; going crazy just because he’s dancing around the subject.

Calum opens his mouth, but it takes a moment for the words to tumble out. “Eki? She’s… She’s fine? I don’t- I don’t understand.”

Michael shakes his head, alarms and warnings going off telling him to abort the conversation. “It’s nothing, just wanted to know if she’s okay.”

For one uncomfortable moment, Calum looks at Michael like he’s trying to figure him out. Perturbed and unable to meet Calum's eyes, Michael unfreezes the play, and Calum flails to grab at his controller.

“Son of a bitch,” Calum says as one of Michael's players kicks the ball from his. There’s no heat to his words, he's distracted; can't stop looking at Michael.

Even with a seven point lead, Calum forfeits five minutes later with a half-assed excuse and says that he and Luke made plans for the night. 

Michael watches Calum scratch the back of his head, starting to say something. Rather, he thinks it over and deflates, instead saying “see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Michael swallows around the sudden dryness in his throat. He nods in agreement and watches Calum’s back as he walks out the door with a strange feeling in his stomach. 

The door shuts and Michael tells himself things will be back to normal tomorrow. They always are.

.

Knowing that Eki is okay about things makes Michael feel a lot better. That’s what he tells himself when he finally gets around to hopping on the tourbus the next morning after repeated texts from Ashton and their tour manager threatening him to get his ass in gear. Luke and Calum are already lounging on the couch, eyelids drooping heavily as they curl into one another, hungover and still un-caffeinated. Smirking, Michael disappears into the bunk area to fling his backpack into his bunk before reappearing in front of them.

“Room for one more?” He asks.

Luke shifts away from Calum, already spreading his arms for Michael before he realizes his mistake.

“Mike, no!” Calum groans.

It’s too late, Michael’s already launching himself onto the couch and onto his two best friends, smacking foreheads, kneeing crotches, and elbowing stomachs to make himself comfortable between them. Michael grips onto Luke, ass against Calum’s thigh, before realizing Luke is a lot worse for wear and greener than before Michael accidentally kneed him in the stomach.

“Fuck, be careful next time,” Calum scolds. “Luke?”

“Think ‘m gonna be sick,” Luke mutters, pushing Michael gently off of him before he gets up and staggers towards the bathroom.

“Why’d you do that?” Calum asks, irritated.

“Sorry,” Michael says, watching Luke go. “Don’t know why I thought that’d be funny.”

Calum is frowning at him when he rolls over.

“Headache?” Michael inquires.

Calum nods, snuggling closer into Michael’s chest when Michael wraps him in an easy hold.

Michael licks his lips, fixing a stray hair from Calum’s face. It’s coarse, curling, and a bit slick, like Calum didn’t get to shower this morning.

“Did you pull?” Michael digs deeper, brushing Calum’s hair off of his face. It shouldn’t be a big deal, they ask each other and joke about shit like this all the time. But Michael still can’t shake the uneasy feeling in his stomach telling him that this is Private with a capital ‘P’ again.

Calum just nods. 

To avoid saying anything else he might regret, Michael rests his cheek against Calum’s head. Did she get to see the hair extension? Was Calum comfortable enough to use one of his panties? Was she into that kind of thing?

“Budge up,” Luke whispers hoarsely when he comes back, twisting himself into Michael and Calum’s little huddle. His breath is a rancid mixture of toothpaste and partially digested stomach content, but it takes Michael’s mind off of things.

Finally, Ashton clambers into the bus, weighed down by his own luggage.

“What happened to ‘be on the bus in ten or you’re fucked’?” Michael comments.

Ashton ignores this and studies their lump on the couch.

“Gross,” he concludes lightheartedly. 

.

It’s Calum’s idea at first.

“Hey, what if we wore kilts to the Glasgow gig?”

Michael snorts, thinking the idea’s absurd but absolutely hilarious before he wonders if Calum would like that, wearing a skirt. His smile immediately falters and he focuses on drumming his hands against his thighs until Luke speaks up.

“Like, for the whole show?” He wrinkles his nose.

“Maybe not for the whole thing, but like for a song or two,” Calum says.

“What about the encore?” Ashton suggests. Michael allows himself to exhale a little bit. If Ashton thinks it’s still manly enough, it probably is.

Calum’s eyes light up. “Yeah, that would totally work, that’d be so sick! Can you imagine the fans’ reactions?”

Luke, more open to the idea, nods and turns to Michael.

“Mike? What do you think?”

All three pairs of eyes are on him, but somehow Michael can only look at Calum. Michael takes a deep breath, pretending to consider it when in reality he’s floundering. _It’s okay_ , he tells himself. Everything’s fine. Calum’s said so. 

Except everything isn’t fine and the look on Calum’s face tells Michael that he knows something is up. Because he suggested kilts and that must mean he likes them; likes skirts. Does he like to get fucked in them?

Michael’s heart thumps hard against his ribcage, and suddenly he feels overwhelmed. Calum crosses his arms and Michael doesn’t miss how his jaw flexes.

Throat dry, Michael blurts out “we get to wear ours with underwear though, right?”

It’s a tasteless joke, getting at most a little chuckle from Ashton and a small, humoured smile from Luke. 

Calum’s jaw gives another faint twitch before he’s looking away from Michael and saying, “cool, let’s do it.”

He doesn't sound very enthusiastic anymore.

.

In the end, that’s how they end up in a little shop in Glasgow a couple of days later.

“Which colour brings out my eyes?” Luke asks, grining. 

Michael rolls his eyes.

"Shut up, Luke. You're not funny and you're not cute."

They’ve split off. Calum and Ashton are trying on prospective kilts and Michael’s already got his hands on a solid navy skirt that he needs to try on. Luke, still undecided, has unfortunately coerced Michael into helping him.

“This?” He plucks one from the rack almost similar to the last one Ashton tried on and Michael nods, hoping that’ll get Luke off his case. Judging from the sigh, Luke isn’t appeased. 

“You suck,” he mutters.

Suddenly, Ashton bursts into a fit of giggles by the changing rooms and when Michael looks over Calum has changed into his kilt, twirling around with his hand fitted in Ashton’s above him, laughing right along with him. Ashton spins Calum around some more until Calum is tripping, dizzy, on his own two feet. Michael’s heart trips in his chest and he sneaks a glance at Calum's toned thighs before the skirt swooshes back down against his knees as he slows to a stop. Michael gulps, forcing his eyes upward again until they meet Calum’s. His smile’s disappeared, jaw as tense as it was when Michael made that shitty underwear comment. Michael, for the life of himself, can't figure out what Calum is thinking and he doesn't know what to say.

Luke wolf whistles, cutting through any tension accumulating in the store between them, and Ashton laughs again as he plays with his own kilt.

“Think I’m gonna get the other kilt,” he hums, returning to his dressing room. Calum stands outside his own room for a second, swaying awkwardly as he looks at Michael. Then, he’s turning back to look at himself in the mirror, hands skimming down the hem of his kilt as he traces the shape of it around his thighs.

What if Calum is enjoying this? Michael watches him carefully, watches his fingers brush the cotton fabric gently. A small smile twitches on his lips and Michael’s breath hitches, heart stuttering again. Michael’s brain registers this as another capital ‘P’ Private moment, something he shouldn’t have even be seeing. Michael looks away, quickly, towards Luke who seems unfazed.

It could have been anything is what Michael tells himself. Calum could be imagining all the meltdowns these kilts will cause in the audience, all the screams like someone’s just died because they’re in skirts. Could be imagining that hair extension with the skirt. Maybe even a full wig.

Michael takes a deep breath and focuses intently on the washing instructions for his kilt- hand wash only, do NOT put in the dryer. Like he’s ever going to wear it again.

“Can you guys hurry up?” Luke finally complains. “Other people need to use the fitting rooms too.”

Ashton pops out of his just as Luke huffs, unwanted and wanted kilts in hand as Calum retreats back into his own without a glance back towards Michael or Luke. 

“All yours, princess.” Ashton gestures towards the empty dressing room before heading to the counter.

Michael feels incredibly awkward, standing there with nothing but the thoughts in his head to occupy him. Suddenly, Luke’s company seems a lot more ideal. He bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting for Calum to come out of the dressing room, because he should be coming out soon. Michael waits and waits, and Calum doesn’t appear. Luke even reappears before him, showing off his own kilt to Michael and Ashton. Calum doesn’t come out even after Luke skulks back into his own dressing room after Michael tells him to stop shimmying around like a turd.

Either Ashton doesn’t seem to notice or he doesn’t mind, but by the time Luke is paying for his own kilt, Calum still hasn’t come out of his stall. Michael locks himself in the free one, breath caught in his lungs as he listens for any sign of Calum in the room next to his. What the hell is he doing in there? Who takes that long to change- not even girls do. Unless, unless- no. The idea hits him like a punch to his gut. Calum wouldn’t jerk off here, would he? Michael listens closer, but all he can hear is Calum sigh and the rustle of fabric. Quickly, Michael sheds his jeans and figures out how his kilt works before opening the door to show Ashton and Luke.

“Damn girl,” is the first thing out of Luke’s mouth. “You lookin’ fine.”

“Fuck off, Luke,” Michael giggles, checking himself in the mirror. It’s a lot less breezier than he thought it’d be, but that’s probably because he still has his boxers on. It’s freer though, a lot freer than wearing skinnies. Michael thinks he likes this new discovery.

The other dressing room lock clicks, and Calum finally emerges, kilt in hand, other hand stuffed into his pocket. Michael’s eyes quickly skid down his body, finding no traces that support Michael’s absurd idea. Calum wouldn’t actually have a wank in public.

He wouldn’t have a wank in public, but he does catch Michael staring again and their eyes meet for a split second before Calum is examining Michael’s kilt. Suddenly Michael is self-conscious, turning his gaze down to the kilt while he picks at the hem.

Ashton seems to take this the wrong way. 

“Oh come on, Mike. You look fine, just get the damn kilt.”

“Makes you look like a pretty schoolgirl,” Luke tacks on with a giggle.

Michael flips Luke off, expecting some kind of retort from Calum as well when he turns around. Instead, Calum is focused on Luke with a pinched expression on his face. Suddenly, the tartan fabric against Michael’s legs feels scratchy and uncomfortable. Why is Calum looking at Luke like that? What if- what if?

“Cal’s prettier though,” Michael blurts out.

Calum blinks back towards Michael, thrown off, and Luke and Ashton agree that he’s the prettiest, laughing. Michael tells himself that it’s normal when Calum blushes at things like this. Because it is, he always has, and Michael’s reading into this way too much. But Calum’s knuckles are turning white against the plaid of his kilt and to save face, he throws them a weak wink and a half-assed “you know it” before heading up to the cashier.

Michael wastes no time in retreating back into the dressing room. The kilt is a bit tight at his waist, he figures, pinching at the extra skin. Michael frowns, but it’s nothing one of his t-shirts can’t hide. 

Everyone waits as Michael pays for the kilt, and even though no one’s paying him any attention, it feels like the whole room is focused on him. His fingers drum against the transaction machine as it takes its time reading his card, and he can’t stop staring at his kilt as it’s folded into a bag. A few moments skip by and ‘Accepted’ flashes across the screen. Michael breathes a sigh of relief and takes the bag with a quick thank you, rushing to join the other boys.

Calum blinks at Michael before turning away to follow Ashton out of the shop. Michael, desperate for something, rests his chin on Calum’s shoulder, fingers brushing his side as they walk towards the car.

“Okay?” Michael asks.

Calum throws a confused look over his shoulder.

“Yeah, why?” 

It’s so sincere that Michael finds it easy to believe, so he shrugs and says “nothing”, wrapping his arms tight round Calum's waist as he walks against him to get to the van.

Michael doesn’t know where the urge to be in Calum’s space comes from as they load themselves into the car, but it hits him hard in the gut and he curls into Calum’s side once he’s got his seatbelt on.

“You guys are so gay,” Luke says, blushing and shifting awkwardly when none of the other boys laugh.

.

Michael’s never really thought about it that hard but as he looks at Calum, glistening and soaked with sweat while he changes into his kilt, Luke’s comment sits in his stomach like a hard lump. Michael doesn’t know how Calum feels about it, but he doesn’t seem too bothered. 

Suddenly, Calum is forcing his hand down under the kilt, adjusting himself and Michael’s stomach flips terribly. He turns to glance anywhere but at Calum.

Luke and Ashton are trying to dance their own rendition of a hoedown and it’s going terribly. Michael forces a laugh, thankful for some sort of distraction from Calum as he yells “you guys suck!” 

Then, one of the crew members is shouting, “showtime, boys!”

Luke and Ashton dissolve into a fit of giggles and Calum smoothes down the front of his kilt. Michael pretends he didn’t see anything and grabs for the guitar his tech offers. "In five, four, three…"

Calum was right. The screams, when the fans see the wardrobe change, are deafening.

Michael can’t think straight through the rest of the encore, he just ploughs through without taking his eyes off of Calum. 

Is he hard for this? Does he like wearing that kilt? Michael gulps, trying to refocus on his chords for _Good Girls_. 

But is Calum going to touch himself in that kilt later? Would he let someone fuck him in it? Michael shudders and reminds himself that he still has to get through _What I Like About You_.

The worst part is that Calum keeps catching him too. Every time Calum looks over, Michael is staring, and the more he catches him staring, the more often he looks over. More than once he mouths a “what?” towards Michael, but Michael just shrugs, and Calum doesn’t seek any answers once they disappear off of the stage after their final bow. 

Luke and Ashton whoop and holler behind Michael as they make their way backstage again, but Michael’s attention is focused on Calum leading the pack. One hand is disappearing in front of him, and Michael can only guess he’s readjusting again.

Throat suddenly dry, Michael reaches out and grabs for Calum’s arm, pulling him back as Ashton and Luke and other backstage crew rush past them.

“What the fuck, Mike?” Calum curses. He’s done a poor job hiding the bulge under his kilt ( _he likes this, he fucking likes this_ runs on a continuous loop in the back of Michael’s mind) and when Michael looks back up, Calum is giving him a hard look before yanking his arm back.

“What do you want, man?” Calum snaps. “What are you fucking doing? What’s up with you lately?”

Michael steps back instantly, blinking. He doesn’t know what he wants. Or, well, maybe he does.

Calum shakes his head and walks away when he realizes that he’s not going to get an answer any time soon.

.

Later that night, Calum shoves his way past Michael into Michael's hotel room.

“We’re talking about this,” he demands.

And honestly, Calum was the last person Michael expected after their encounter backstage.

“What? I thought we were okay,” Michael says, closing the door.

Calum shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “No, we’re not. You’re not. It’s weird and it’s not me, Mike.”

And yes, _yes it fucking is_ Michael suddenly wants to shout. It was Calum who suggested the fucking kilts he was getting off in, it was Calum in the fucking hair extension acting like a fucking swimsuit model, it was Calum who didn’t text Michael back telling Michael not to bother him.

“Why did you even wear it?” Michael explodes. “Where the fuck did it even come from?”

“What- are you still on about that hair extension? I told you it was nothing-"

“And the kilt?" Michael's mind races, trying to keep up with the rush of thoughts making it hard to concentrate on the conversation. "No it wasn't, Cal! You liked that, didn't you? Posing for Eki like some girl on Instagram. You liked it out there tonight on stage. You probably didn't even take it off when we got back here. What were you doing back in your room, huh?”

Calum goes rigid and Michael sucks in a deep breath. He’s gone way past Private with a capital ‘P’.

“You weren’t supposed to know about that,” Calum finally says, and Michael has a feeling he isn’t exactly referring to getting off fifteen minutes ago.

But now that Michael does, he needs to know more.

“Do you like it? That stuff? Dressing up?” He asks quietly.

Calum’s cheeks flame and his jaw twitches. “Yes. I like it, okay?” He hisses.

Michael goes quiet, heart pounding in his chest.

“Why the fuck do you even care?" Calum accuses. "Why are you being so weird about this? Even Luke’s noticed! He never notices anything!”

“I’m- I’m not being weird!” Michael can’t even defend himself properly.

“Mike, we can’t even have a proper conversation anymore without you asking about my sex life!”

“We always joke about that kind of thing!”

“It’s not funny anymore!” Calum shouts. “It’s not funny, my preferences aren’t a joke!”

“I- I never said they were!” Michael raises his voice to match Calum’s.

It’s all fucked up and it’s all his fault, Michael realizes. 

“Just-” Calum’s nose flares as Michael hears him suck in a deep breath. “Just stop being weird, alright?” He snaps shortly before storming out.

.

And Michael does try, he swears he does. He fucks around with Calum the way he always does and they cuddle and there are still no boundaries. But Calum’s closed off and awkward about it now, like there’s this door he’s shut that Michael didn’t even know about. And he’s desperate to open it.

.

Lost in a Topshop in London is the last place Michael wants to be. 

But Luke had announced that he was banding with Calum and Michael had decided to stay out of that one, even if it meant third-wheeling for Ashton and Bryana. Well, he _was_ third-wheeling. He currently has no clue where Bryana whisked Ashton off to.

Not that he cares anymore. Michael’s long since stopped looking for the pair, instead having found himself surrounded by half-naked mannequins. In skirts.

Michael wonders if Calum would like this, if he would have stopped just to browse through. Would he have liked the soft black flow-y one? Or is he more of a tight jean skirt kind of person? Michael bites down on his lip, reminding himself that Calum could be into none of these skirts. But if Michael had to guess: probably the tight jean one with the buttons all down the front.

Michael reaches out, brushes his fingers against the material of the skirt. Suddenly, a thought hits him.

If Calum likes wearing skirts and Michael likes seeing Calum in skirts, does that mean Michael likes wearing skirts? He had liked the kilt well enough, even thought about throwing it on the other day to lounge around in- without boxers.

Michael can’t stop himself from looking at it, and after gulping down a deep breath, he reaches out and touches it again. It’s just a fucking skirt, he tells himself. The denim is almost as familiar as his own jeans, if not a bit softer and he has to remind himself again that it’s just a skirt. Girls wear these all the time. 

Michael takes it off of the rack anyway, glancing around. No one’s looking, so he grabs a few pairs of skinny jeans and books it to the fitting rooms.

“How many do you have?” The clerk eyes the dark blue pile in Michael’s arms.

“Uh-”

“Here.” The clerk yanks the denim from Michael.

He’s about to protest, but there’s really no other option besides grabbing the jeans back and making an ass of himself, so Michael just fidgets and watches the clerk count his jeans. If she sees the skirt, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she takes a door hanger with a five written on it and shows Michael to an empty fitting room.

Jeans already forgotten after the door shuts behind him, Michael digs the skirt out from the pile. He blinks at it, palms already cold and clammy as he asks himself again: _If Calum likes it and I like Calum in it, do I like wearing it?_

Terrified, it takes Michael another five minutes to convince himself into pulling down his own jeans.

Once the skirt is on, all Michael can see is that he’s picked the wrong size. He smoothes the denim over his thighs, not even bothering to do up the top button when his hips are bulging over. For a moment, he’s completely defeated, thinking that this would be a better size for Calum or Ashton, but he can’t just poke his head out and ask for a size or two up. 

Michael looks at the skirt and frowns. It doesn’t give him a thrill; not one like Calum seemed to get in his kilt the other week, anyway. 

He checks the price tag anyway, balking when he sees the number. At twenty-nine pounds and a size too small, he shouldn’t even consider buying it.

Five minutes later, he finds Ashton and Bryana wandering around the makeup.

“What’d you get?” Ashton asks.

“Just some jeans,” Michael lies.

.

Michael stops pretending. At this point, it’s almost hilarious what he’ll tell himself when it comes to Calum. So he tells himself the truth:

Everything is weird. Calum still won’t let him back in. Luke is definitely noticing; especially when he gets all of Michael’s attention, which has consisted of grumbling and backhanded comments and too many cuddles.

Michael is sitting on another hotel bed, ignoring Ashley’s _did you fucking take my wig?_ as it pops up on his phone’s screen while he thinks of ways to finally broach the subject to Calum. Somehow, telling Calum straight up that he may want to fuck him while he wears women’s clothing doesn’t seem like the brightest idea Michael’s ever had. Especially when Calum isn’t exactly open to talking about that stuff anymore.

But something’s gotta give, and Michael just wants Calum relaxed around him again. Michael will do anything for that, even if that means coming clean.

_If you don’t text back in five minutes I’m gonna assume it’s you._

Two minutes later: _Michael you fucking dick. We’re no longer friends._

Michael texts Calum instead.

_You busy right now?_

Almost immediately, he gets a response back from Calum telling him he’s free.

 _Can I come by?_ Michael texts again.

No answer back is better than a no for an answer, so Michael digs around his suitcase for the Topshop bag and Ashley's wig.

The first thing Calum sees is the mop of blue hair in Michael’s hand when he opens the door.

“What are you doing with that?” His eyebrows furrow as he frowns down at it. “Is that Ashley’s wig?”

“Uh, yeah,” Michael admits, letting Calum close the door behind him.

Calum groans.

“Mike, come on, don’t make this weird again.” Calum sounds exasperated, retreating to sit down on the bed. “I said we weren’t talking about this anymore.”

“I know,” Michael confesses again quickly. “But… Do you- uhm. Do you actually like wearing this stuff?”

Calum’s jaw twitches.

“I just- here.” Michael tosses the wig and the skirt onto Calum’s lap when Calum stays silent. Calum looks down at them, then back up at Michael with his eyebrows furrowed as if he’s saying ‘what the fuck am I supposed to do with this’. 

“I’ll come back,” Michael says, picking up the room keycard lying on the desk.

Calum’s jawline clenches with a hard swallow. Michael panics a bit, scared he’s caught on. Scared he’s going to say no and tell Michael to leave his keycard there.

“If you text,” he tacks on.

The seconds feel like hours to Michael when he's back in his own hotel room. He paces, fingers twitching awkward, stuttered rhythms at his sides. What if Calum never texts back? Michael nibbles at the sides of his nails, flops down onto the bed. He can imagine Calum putting Ashley’s wig on now, how the dark blue will frame his cheekbones and jawline. The swell of Calum’s cock will most likely rub against the rough material of the denim skirt, chubbing up just because Calum is in it. Michael groans in frustration, rubbing his face to keep his mind off of this.

It doesn’t help, nothing does until his phone vibrates roughly against the nightstand. All the text says is _I’m done_. Michael licks at his lips, tells himself to breathe, and, ignoring the discomfort in his jeans, walks the hallway back to Calum’s room.

It feels like forever, walking down that hall. What if Calum thinks this is weird? Fucked up? Michael admits to himself that this is kind of fucked up. He doesn’t think friends ask their best friends to put on a wig and a skirt every day. He doesn’t think friends want to wreck their best friends in said wig and skirt.

Standing in front of the hotel room door, Michael realizes that the walk wasn’t enough. It was too short now he’s got his heart in his throat and his hands trembling at his sides. _It’s just Calum_ , he tells himself.

But that’s exactly the problem.

He swipes the card and lets himself in.

It’s almost comical, the way Calum snaps his head around, eyes wide and scared like he didn’t know Michael was coming. The wig swishes around with the movement, pastel blue strands catching on his nose and cheekbone and jaw.

Michael doesn’t mean to giggle and bites down on his lip when Calum’s expression sours and he swipes the stray hairs from his face.

“Sorry, that wasn’t… Is this okay?”

“Why are you doing this?” Calum counters.

The words stick in Michael’s throat. What is he supposed to tell Calum? Somehow, coming right out with the confession that he wants to grab Calum’s ass through that skirt and kiss him doesn’t sound like a great idea.

Calum steps closer, the guarded expression on his face becoming clear and Michael’s stomach knots for all the wrong reasons. He wants to touch the hair.

“I liked it.” Michael swallows thickly around the admission. “I liked seeing you like this.”

Calum breathes in sharply. “And?”

Michael shakes his head. “Cal, you need to talk to me. You need to tell me if you like this. And I mean, like, _like_ this. With- with me.”

Calum crosses his arms over his chest. “No, I think you need to tell me what you like now.”

Michael takes a deep breath.

“Would… would you get fucked like this?”

Calum’s breath hitches, a challenge sparking in his eyes. Michael focuses on the rise and fall of Calum’s collarbones, praying that Calum can’t hear his heart thumping against his ribcage. 

“Yeah,” Calum says.

Michael steps closer, fists clenching at his sides instead of reaching out towards Calum’s wig. Skittish, Calum steps back. _This is all wrong_ , Michael tells himself. _I’m fucking everything up_.

“Shit, Cal. Sorry. I just, I thought-“ Michael sways, taking a step back as well.

“Would you fuck me?” Calum asks.

Michael can’t quite catch his breath. “Yes.” His eyes blatantly travel Calum’s body, following every curve. “The hair, the skirt, god Cal.” He rocks back and forth on his heels, buzzing with too much energy.

Calum nods calmly, yet the rising and falling of his chest is anything but.

“You like this too,” he repeats. His shoulders droop, tension sagging away.

Michael nods, and somehow, with this weight off of his chest, the confession pours out of his mouth: “I do. Fuck, Cal, I do. I didn’t know if you were just being weird at first but I knew I liked something about it and it was so fucked up.”

Calum nods, and if Michael didn’t notice how Calum’s chest was hiccuping like he couldn’t quite catch his breath, he would swear Calum is being too calm about this. 

If Michael is being honest with himself, he’s not sure whether he wants to laugh or cry. Calum’s just standing there, half naked in a skirt and a wig with his eyes wide as he looks up at Michael, and it’s so not funny that it’s funny.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Calum finally asks. “You realize you’ve made me feel like shit this past month, right? I thought you actually thought I was weird for this kind of stuff.”

It’s true, but it’s a low blow and Michael explodes: “How was I supposed to tell you, Cal? Best friends don’t do that! Best friends don’t want to fuck their best friend up the ass just because they’re joking around in a kilt!”

Calum gulps.

“So you’d… Ash and Luke too?”

“What? No!” Michael feels the sudden rush of colour leaving his face, distraught with the fact that there might be another realization looming over him. One that he’s definitely not ready for just yet. “Ashton’s got a girlfriend and Luke- just, ew, no. He’s gross and his farts smell bad.”

Calum laughs for a moment before shaking his head. Michael grins.

“So you really wanna do this?” Calum asks. “Like, really?”

Michael nods, swallowing at a lump in his throat.

“I- yeah. I’m pretty sure, yeah.”

Calum nods before he sighs.

“This- it’s a lot right now. Give me some time, okay?”

.

By ‘some time’, Michael suspected Calum meant at least a couple of weeks to wrap his head around the fact that his best friend wants to fuck his brains out. Or maybe even never. Then things would go back to being awkward and tense and eventually they’d both just drop the subject and never really patch anything up.

Michael didn’t think Calum would be knocking at his hotel door after a week of ignoring the awkwardness their initial conversation created, wig and skirt he had kept in hand.

Michael opens the door wide enough to let Calum slip by. Clearly, even though Calum’s been acting like it never happened, he’s thought about it a lot. 

Heart in his throat, Michael feels the disappointment tickle in his stomach as Calum gives him a small look and says “I’m just gonna-”.

He holds the clothes up before heading into the bathroom. Michael watches him go, drumming his fingers against his thighs as he hopes his heart will quiet down before Calum returns.

Five minutes later, Calum reappears, wearing only the wig and the skirt again. Michael’s heart picks right back up, kicking the air from his lungs. He can’t believe this is happening, he can’t believe-

“Hi,” Michael says dumbly.

A small smile finds its way onto Calum’s face.

“Hey.”

“You look- you look really pretty.”

Calum blushes, but he forces a little laugh and says “what, this prom night again? Where’s my corsage?”

Michael giggles nervously. “Dumbass,” he says.

Suddenly, Calum is looking at Michael again with razor-sharp precision a frown on his lips.

“You know this is probably going to change things, right?” He says.

Michael can’t stop himself from watching Calum's fingers dance along the hem of the skirt.

“Cal, I think things have been changing,” he admits, looking back up to meet Calum’s eyes.

Calum visibly gulps and Michael wonders suddenly if he’s nervous for all of the reasons Michael’s imagining him to be nervous for. 

“Um.” Michael licks over his chapped lips. “Can I kiss you?” 

Instead of answering, Calum closes the distance they’ve put between each other in two quick strides. Michael is certain that Calum is going to kiss him, fast and brutal, but Calum suddenly stops short, barely touching their chests. Like he’s maybe starting to realize how wrong this all is.

Instead, Calum asks him, “are you gonna fuck me?” 

Michael sounds so wounded as he whimpers, skidding his fingers over the cotton material of his shirt like that’ll quell the sudden squeeze of desire in his gut. Confidence growing, Calum smirks and shoves lightly at Michael’s shoulder.

“Gonna call me pretty?” 

“Cal, fuck. _Fuck_.” Michael’s brain stutters, drunk on the sudden rush of adrenaline. Everything is sharp sharp sharp and slow, like Michael’s underwater. 

Calum leans up into Michael, pressing his naked chest against Michael’s shirt as his fingers tangle with the hem. Michael follows Calum’s lead, leaning in in slow, stuttered movements before he feels the push of Calum’s lips against his. His heart leaps in his chest; he’s never kissed Calum, not like this. Never with intent and purpose. 

Michael breaks the kiss, leaving it short and sweet as he shivers, a shaky huff that warms the skin by Calum’s mouth. 

_This is where it would stop_ , Michael thinks. This is where they push each other away and laugh and call each other gay. They can do that and forget this all happened. Calum pulls back just enough to look Michael in the eyes, and Michael knows this is what he’s thinking too. But Michael takes a deep breath and cups Calum’s jaw, sweeping his thumb across the sharp edges of his cheekbones, and kisses him again.

Michael’s fingers wind their way through the synthetic strands of the wig and it takes all of his concentration to remind himself that he could pull it off all too easily. So he grips under the wig instead, feeling Calum’s coarser, curlier hair tangle around his fingers as he thinks _fuck_ , he’s enjoying this too much. But Calum pushes him into the door, hands bunched up in the sides of Michael’s shirt as he crowds his personal space, pushing his tongue into the heat of Michael’s mouth. 

Michael gasps, but Calum is pulling away again.

“Want you to do that to me,” Calum murmurs, prying Michael’s arms away from him. 

Michael wants to protest, grab Calum back; there’s a whine stuck in his throat, but that’s where it stays as Michael’s eyes travel to where Calum’s thumbing away a thread of saliva from the corner of his mouth. 

Calum wants him to do what? 

Michael’s eyes trail back down Calum’s body, as if he’ll get his answer that way. All he catches is an eyeful of Calum’s dick, evident and straining against the denim of the skirt. Michael swallows hard around the excess saliva building up in his mouth, closer to admitting to himself that Calum might want this just as bad too. 

“Mike, please.”

“You want- you want it rough?”

Calum nods eagerly. “Yeah.”

Michael grabs at Calum’s face, hesitation softening his grasp around Calum’s jaw before Calum whimpers helplessly. Michael inhales sharply, tightening his grip before forcing Calum’s lips open with his own as he spins them around and bangs Calum against the hotel door. Calum hisses, teeth nipping into the sensitive flesh of Michael’s bottom lip. Michael tries to pull away as the steady pulse of pain becomes too much, but Calum clamps his teeth down harder. Embarrassingly enough, Michael moans as a fresh wave of hot pain blooms in his lip before Calum finally lets go and sweeps his tongue gently against the sting.

“Jesus, Cal.” It seems to be the only thing Michael can comprehend right now, his thoughts consumed by Calum and _holy fuck_.

“You know it.” Calum smirks, confident again before he huffs, eyebrows furrowing as he digs his nails into Michael’s shoulders. “C’mon, Mike,” is all he grunts, and Michael sort of wishes Calum would give him a little more to go on than that. He doesn’t know what Calum likes, what makes him tick. Not yet. The answer is simple though, Calum ruts against Michael’s thigh, shuddering through a first few slow thrusts before he picks up his pace. Michael can clearly distinguish the hard outline of Calum’s prick rubbing up against him, breath catching when he sees the print of his own dick, chubbed up and straining against the zipper of his jeans. He can’t believe he’s so hot for this, he can’t believe-

“C’mere, let me-” Michael takes Calum’s thighs and Calum, getting Michael’s ideas a lot quicker than Michael has his, wraps his legs around Michael’s waist as Michael hoists him up. Michael can feel the strain in his calves as he pushes up onto his toes to grind himself into Calum’s hips. The skirt is tight, marking Calum’s thighs red and white where it digs into his skin and Michael barely has room to shove his hands up it to squeeze at Calum’s ass. Calum lets out a loud, unabashed groan and smacks his head back against the door, encouraging Michael to spill another slew of curses riddled with his name. Discovering that Calum forwent his underwear, Michael presses his fingers harder into the swell of his ass.

“Mike. Mike, shit, stop,” Calum pants, licking one last kiss to Michael’s lips before wriggling his thighs out of Michael’s grasp. “‘M gonna get close, fuck, stop. Don’t wanna come yet. Want you to fuck me.”

Michael shivers, prick twitching desperately in his jeans as he watches Calum fix his skirt. It doesn’t fix very well, Calum’s own cock straining folds into the rough denim.

“That means- I want you to force me to the bed.” Calum’s voice is suddenly small again, high strung. He keeps pressing his hands to smooth the skirt against his dick and Michael gulps, suddenly hyperaware of what else Calum wants.

“You- we should talk about this,” Michael whispers. “We need to set-”

“I’ll tell you what to do,” Calum interrupts hastily. “I want… I want you to force me to the bed. Then I want you to tell me what to do.”

Michael does as Calum said, grabbing Calum’s arms roughly, gripping too tight as he wrestles a willing Calum onto the bed.

“Seriously though?” Michael stops, forgoing climbing on top of Calum. “I mean, it’s the first time-“

Calum shakes his head and Michael’s jaw drops, but before he can ask Calum if he’s done this with anyone else before, Calum is saying “I trust you” and slipping his hands down Michael’s jeans to get at his zipper.

It’s unfair, really, Michael thinks as Calum’s fingers fumble with the button on his jeans. Calum’s half exposed, bronze skin of his torso already starting to glean with perspiration while Michael is still decent. Then he isn’t, Calum finally working the button out of the hole and unzipping his jeans to pull them down. 

Michael feels the air sit heavy in his chest, Calum clearly focusing on he shape of his dick through his boxers. He’s not tentative this time, pressing his mouth to the fabric right where the head of Michael’s cock is, licking the fabric damp against the sensitive skin. Michael's hands find their way into the blue of Calum’s wig like it’s second nature to him and Michael wonders if Calum likes his hair being pulled, roughly, while he’s gagging on Michael’s cock. 

Michael shudders, fixing the wig back into position when he realizes he’s pulled it lopsided. His hands move to the skirt, wanting to unbutton the first few buttons so Calum can get out of it, but Calum bats Michael’s hand away.

“Want it on,” he says.

Michael grins.

“Okay, okay. I’m just gonna take-” He pulls his jeans all the way off, stumbling onto the bed when his foot gets caught. Calum’s tongue pokes out of his mouth to lick across his lips as he watches Michael’s fingers stutter over the waistband of his boxers.

“Are you turned on right now?” Michael asks.

Calum snorts, and pretty soon he’s rolling on the sheets heaving that weird breathy laugh like he can’t catch quite enough air. Michael feels himself soften and his jaw drops, but he’s still grinning.

“Wh- what? It’s not- it’s not funny, Cal! I’m trying to be sexy here!” Jokingly, Michael grabs Calum’s shoulders and shoves him back into the mattress until Calum’s short little laughs are punctuated with little moans. Michael stops laughing altogether, digging his fingers deeper into Calum’s shoulder blades experimentally and soon, Calum is squirming under him.

“You like that?” Michael wonders.

“Yeah,” Calum gasps.

Michael files this away for later- if there is a later- but his grip is tighter when he wraps his fingers around Calum’s jaw again, jerking Calum’s head towards his so their lips can meet. Michael gives his cock a few tugs while Calum is occupied before pulling his boxers down and slipping awkwardly out of them.

Once Calum looks down, he doesn’t look away.

“Jesus,” he says, blinking as Michael’s cock slaps against the soft skin of his tummy. “Is it weird that I wanna suck your dick?”

Michael laughs, sudden and unexpected for the both of them.

“I- I want to fuck you while you’re wearing girl stuff and you’re saying it’s weird you wanna suck my dick?”

A short, easy laugh bursts from Calum as well, like it’s been this natural for them all along, until Calum is pulling at the bottom of Michael’s t-shirt.

“Gonna take this off?”

Michael stalls. He hadn’t really thought about it.

“Dunno. Maybe.”

Calum rumples Michael’s shirt up to his ribs in response, tracing his hands along the soft curves of Michael’s sides.

“Don’t think you need it,” Calum muses.

Michael snorts, short and a little nervous, but it’s Calum, and Calum is looking at him patiently, lovingly, and it makes Michael feel all right. So he pulls the shirt over his shoulders and over his head and lets it fall off the side of the bed. 

“I’m gonna get the stuff okay?” Michael says, clambering off the hotel bed again to dig through his duffel bag to produce a pack of condoms and lube. 

Calum is absentmindedly twirling a lock of blue hair when Michael turns back to look at him.

“What?” Michael asks, watching Calum’s eyes trace over his naked body as he walks back to the bed. He tries not to feel self-conscious, and reminds himself again that this is his best friend, just Calum, but his stomach sinks again with the realization that that’s exactly the point- it’s Calum.

“Mike,” is all Calum needs to say.

“Hm?”

“C’mere.”

Michael chases Calum’s lips obediently, settling in between his thighs.

“So pretty,” he mumbles, focusing on Calum, tangling his fingers in the fake hair, grabbing at Calum’s thighs underneath the skirt. “Lift your hips for me.”

Calum complies and Michael pushes the skirt up to his hips. He watches, mouth doing dry when Calum’s cock twitches as the coarse fabric catches and rubs against the sensitive skin. Calum’s breath hitches, and Michael supposes it’s not all bad, he’s still pretty erect so Michael can’t be totally unsexy.

“Which way do you want this?” Michael asks, cheeks flushing with heat when the bottle of lube makes an unceremonious, wet noise as the gel oozes out onto his fingers. Funnily enough, Calum rolls over so he’s on his knees and elbows, wiggling his bare ass. Michael isn’t sure he’s supposed to laugh, but he does. If it bothers Calum, he doesn’t show it, only asks:

“Can you spank me?”

Michael chokes, wide green eyes shocked and flitting from Calum’s bum to Calum’s face as he stares at Michael from over his own shoulder.

“Wh- are you- yeah?”

“Yeah, c’mon,” Calum coaxes Michael with another little wiggle of his hips. “Please.”

Michael abandons the bottle of lube and sticky fingers to smack Calum’s ass with a clean hand. It’s not as hard as either of them expect, judging by Calum’s grunt.

“Again,” he demands.

Michael delivers, clapping his open hand against the reddening palm print already forming on Calum’s cheek. The sting tingles his own hand and Calum’s back goes rigid in front of him, a little whimper escaping his mouth. Michael squeezes, biting his fingers into the sore area just to feel Calum’s ass. He’s not disappointed, and Calum properly moans, rocking his hips back against Michael’s hand.

Michael’s cock gives an impatient twitch, so he spreads Calum open, licking nervously at his lips when he asks:

“Ready?”

“Yeah, c’mon,” Calum says, spreading his thighs further for Michael.

For someone about to stick a finger up someone’s ass, Michael is calmer than he thought he would be. Actually sticking a finger up Calum’s ass, Michael’s heart stops. His breath hiccups in his throat as he watches Calum’s rim pucker and give around his forefinger. Calum shudders and Michael can hear him sigh over the pulse rushing through his ears. He works his finger in up to his knuckle and somehow, this feels like more than Michael had bargained for. All he wanted in the beginning was Calum in pretty clothes.

“C,mon, c’mon.” Calum’s voice cracks and he pushes back as Michael is adding a second finger, watching, mesmerized, as Calum’s hole stretches and contracts open to take it.

“Do- do I-?”

“Stretch me,” Calum gasps.

Michael complies, scissoring his fingers against the strain of Calum’s muscles. He tries a few different angles, but nothing makes Calum really tick. A bit disappointed with himself, Michael pushes a third finger past Calum’s rim.

“Move, okay?” Calum instructs again. “’S like fingering a girl.”

Michael furrows his eyebrows because of course he knew that, he’s not that dumb. He’s just- just getting used to this. But he does as Calum tells him; slowly at first, pulls out until his second knuckles, and pushes back in. His stomach flips as the lube squelches between his fingers and Calum’s hole, but Calum is moaning again, angling his hips back down to fuck himself open with Michael’s fingers.

“There, there,” Calum pants, grabbing and pulling on his own cock. “Yeah, fuck.”

Michael’s stomach flips again, and all he knows is that he needs to hear that from Calum again. He thrusts his fingers faster, harder into Calum despite the slick sounds coming from the wet friction. The muscles in Calum’s back ripple as he squirms and shoves his face into the pillow. Michael frowns when the delicious sounds tumbling from Calum’s lips are muffled into the fabric.

“Fuck, you should see yourself Cal,” Michael says, pressing and stretching his fingers experimentally and Calum immediately tenses, clenching around them. He whimpers, a broken sound that goes straight to Michael’s dick, which twitches, hot and heavy against Michael’s thigh. When Michael looks up, Calum is peering over his shoulder, watching.

“You’re doing so good,” Calum gasps. “Mike, gonna- gonna come on your fingers if you don’t slow down.”

Michael grins and keeps fingering Calum, confidence growing with Calum’s words of encouragement. He grabs at Calum’s hip, runs his fingers down the skirt until he hits the bare skin of Calum’s thigh and his cock gives another interested twitch, reminding Michael that this was what he wanted in the first place- Calum all dressed up and pretty for him.

“Mike, Mikey, okay stop.” Calum whines like he can’t quite catch his breath, and when Michael looks, his cock isn’t hidden in his first anymore, pink-tipped and shiny with pre-come dribbling down onto the sheets. “‘M ready.”

Michael swallows thickly. “Okay.”

He pulls his fingers from Calum and gropes around the nightstand for the pack of condoms. He gives his cock a few good pumps before tearing a packet and rolling the condom over his length.

“Ready?” Michael pours a plentiful amount of lube into his open palm and slicks up the rubber.

“Mike, I swear to God-“

Michael giggles, rubbing his cock against Calum’s slick rim, teasing.

“What, want this?”

Calum whimpers pathetically, sparking a filthy kind of courage in Michael’s gut.

“Christ, Cal. You’re so needy. Want my cock that bad? Would you suck me off? Bet your lips would look so pretty around me.” Michael knows he’s rambling, too caught up in teasing Calum. He pushes the head of his cock against Calum’s hole for a little bit of pressure, only to let it skid along the crack of his ass. Calum whimpers in frustration. 

“Would you wear lipstick?” Michael asks. “Fuck, you’d look so good with it.” So good with it smeared over his lips and on his cheeks and chin as he dribbled saliva and Michael’s come everywhere. 

Michael shivers, finally feeding the head of his cock past Calum’s rim. 

Calum gasps like all the air has been punched from his lungs.

Michael stops immediately, suddenly nervous again.

“Hey, hey Cal- is this, it’s okay right?”

“You’re asking me this now with your dick up my ass?” Calum asks incredulously.

Michael laughs. “I meant, like, tell me if it hurts, okay?”

“’S fine,” Calum slurs. “Keep going. Mike, fuck.”

And Michael does, biting back the sounds caught in his throat as he thrusts in and out of Calum shallowly, sliding in deeper on every push. The heat penetrates through the rubber of the condom and Michael’s cock aches, desperate for more friction, but Calum is so tight, rim tensing and relaxing with the slightest of movement. 

Suddenly, Calum says: “I’d let you fuck my mouth”, and Michael immediately stops, looking over at Calum in shock. “Wasn’t lying when I said I’d blow you for the towel.”

And well, Michael makes a mental note to buy the cheapest, least smudge-proof lipstick he can find when he goes shopping next time.

“Fuck, Cal. That was years ago. Don’t- don’t tell me this shit? Do you want me to come right now?”

Calum laughs, tucking a blue strand of hair behind his ear to get a better view of Michael.

“Think you’re gonna have to suck me off if you do that,” he reasons.

Michael swallows around a sudden rush of saliva, thinking that Calum isn’t wrong. Fuck, he’d get to force his hands under the skirt, feel Calum’s thighs and hips as he held him down while teasing the tip of Calum’s cock with his tongue. Maybe even see how much friction Calum could stand with the denim skirt until he was raw and begging.

Calum huffs out a sigh of relief when Michael finally bottoms out, pressing his face into the pillow once again as he shifts and rocks his hips gently onto Michael’s dick.

“‘Kay, okay. You can move,” he says.

Michael nods, going slowly at first until Calum relaxes against him and starts whining again.

“Fuck,” Michael grunts, grabbing onto the mess of skirt bunched around Calum’s hips. He slams Calum back against his cock, earning a surprised grunt. “Think I like you begging for my cock.” Michael grips Calum’s hips tighter through the skirt, growing more and more confident. 

He fucks into him hard and fast, draping himself along Calum’s back and tangles a hand in Calum’s hair, careful not to mess up the wig. Michael decides it’s much nicer being able to push his face into the crook of Calum’s neck and grazes his teeth along the skin there, testing the waters. Calum makes the softest noise and Michael nips again and again, not too much harder, until the patch of skin is red and irritated; a bruise blooms underneath. Michael soothes it over with his tongue, only realizing as an afterthought they have an interview the next day.

“Shit, sorry,” he hisses, kissing the mark. “Didn’t mean-“

“Want it,” Calum huffs. “It’s fine.”

“Fuck, you’re so good for me,” Michael says, brushing the corner of Calum’s jaw with his lips. “Want one here too, don’t you?”

Calum mewls under him, but Michael doesn’t press his luck, the first mark will be discovered quickly anyway. Instead, he pulls at Calum’s hair, tugging Calum’s head back as he fucks harder into him. The moan is strangled in Calum’s throat, and Michael doesn’t think he’ll last long enough like this.

“Mike, what the fuck,” Calum spits when Michael slows down.

“Shh, it’s fine.” Michael kisses at Calum’s cheek before catching the corner of his mouth with his lips. “Cal, Cal, wanna see your face.”

Calum grunts and obliges, pulling his ass away from Michael’s hips. Michael slides his cock out and waits for Calum to lay on his back. 

Calum hisses in pain when his ass meets the mattress, and Michael’s immediately got a hand resting on his hip.

“You okay?” He asks. “Do you- do you want a pillow or something? It’ll make it easier.”

“Since when the fuck did you become an expert on sex?” Calum winces again, but he’s reaching behind his head for one of the pillows so Michael takes that as a yes.

“Lift your ass, Cal.”

Calum does, and Michael gently lays the pillow under Calum’s lower back.

“Better?” 

Calum nods, shifting his weight against the pillow as he watches Michael. “I’m going in again, okay?”

“Okay, yes,” Calum grits out. “I’m not- I’m not fragile! Just fuck me like you were before.”

The fire behind those words make Michael’s heart stutter and start to race again as he spreads Calum’s legs wider. Even with a few of the buttons undone at the bottom, Michael can hear the rest of them straining. The jean skirt resists and digs into Calum’s thigh, rubs against the base of his cock, and Michael has to force it up even higher to get a better angle of Calum’s ass. Michael squirts more lube onto his hands, just in case, and gives his dick a couple of jerks before pressing it against Calum again. Calum stutters out something incoherent but he’s rocking his hips back down onto Michael’s dick so Michael thinks he gets the picture.

It’s easier this time, with Calum already worked open. Michael gives a few shallow thrusts that have Calum squirming impatiently beneath him, but after that precaution, Michael bottoms out again easily. He’s about to start grinding back into Calum, his own cock pulsing with impatience, but something about the way Calum’s positioned makes him pause when he looks down at him.

The wig’s been pulled off a little bit during the switch, showing just enough of Calum’s natural dark bangs underneath. Michael would fix it for him, but something in the way that it’s so off-centre tugs at Michael’s chest. Calum’s laid out underneath him, bronze skin glowing in the contrast of the harsh bright white and blue city lights filtering in through the windows and the soft yellow illuminating the bedside table and all Michael can do is stare in awe.

“Cal.” It’s barely a whisper on his lips as he blinks, touches his fingers to Calum’s sides before he’s surging forward, crashing their lips together. Calum moans open-mouthed into the kiss, rocking his hips down farther onto Michael’s cock. It’s not even a proper kiss, not with Calum panting and Michael gripping at the blue hair so hard he pulls it from Calum’s head a little more. “Cal, fuck.” Another kiss Calum groans into. 

“You’re so pretty,” Michael slurs. “So fucking pretty like this. So pretty for me.” It must sound like nonsense to Calum, but Michael keeps repeating it as he finally starts thrusting into Calum again. It’s true though, Michael thinks as he straightens up, watching as Calum squeezes his eyes shut and gasp, arching his back to meet Michael’s hips. Looking down at his best friend, Michael doesn’t think he’s ever been this wonderstruck before.

Calum blinks, looking back up at Michael again, eyes blown wide and glazed over. Michael feels one of Calum’s hands snake around the back of his neck, tugging at his hair and pulling him closer while the other goes between them and starts tugging at his own neglected cock. Calum jerks his hand hard and fast, fist so close to Michael’s tummy that it smacks and jiggles the skin. For a horrible second Michael is self-conscious of it, tries sucking it in, but then Calum’s babbling, stringing half-formed syllables that sound a lot like Michael’s own name as his fingers pull and tangle harder in his hair. His face pinches and he goes silent, and maybe that’s a warning because he’s coming, shooting up into his fist and onto the skirt. Michael continues to fuck into Calum, determined to finish before Calum is too sensitive, but he’s starting to whimper fast, softening prick still caught between Michael and the rough fabric of the denim skirt.

“Mike, fuck, c’mon,” he pleads.

“Cal-” The heat pools and coils in Michael's stomach and suddenly he’s shaking, tensing all over as he grabs Calum’s ass and comes. Calum squirms violently, cock red and overused, and Michael prays for just a few more thrusts as he holds him down and rides out his own orgasm.

Michael trembles as he pulls out, sure his knees will give out from underneath him as he gets up to throw the condom away. 

He finds Calum’s boxers folded precisely and neatly in the bathroom where the rest of his clothes are, like he had folded and refolded them while he was in there. Michael grabs them, just in case Calum wants them. 

Calum still hasn’t moved when Michael comes out of the bathroom. He lays there, pliant, chest gently rising and falling in the glow from the window and Michael has to fight the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth on his way back to the bed. He sinks slowly back onto the bed, carefully undoing the buttons on the ruined skirt for Calum before using it to clean off the rest of the sticky stain. 

“You want the wig off too?” Michael asks.

Calum nods, pulling it off himself before he hands it over to Michael. Michael puts it on the bedside table while the dirty skirt gets tossed onto the floor. Suddenly, he’s just kneeling there, unsure of what to do now because what they were heading towards is over. Over a month of pent-up sexual frustration has been sated and now Michael is afraid of where they stand. 

But then Calum looks over at him, dazed and sleepy like he always does when he’s just woken up or when he’s in desperate need of a nap, and a warm familiarity warms Michael’s chest. Calum reaches out, making grabby hands at him, and Michael immediately smiles this time, falling into Calum’s arms like it’s the most natural thing he’s ever known.

“Thanks.” Calum mumbles into Michael’s shoulder. “I mean it, Mike. Thank you.”

“I wanna do this again.” Michael says, and there. It’s out there. “If you want.”

Michael doesn’t know what’s going to happen, if they stay best friends and this fizzles out, if they stay friends and just something more, or if this whole thing becomes something more.

But Calum’s murmuring a sleepy “okay” and snuggling closer into Michael’s side and Michael decides he doesn’t need to worry about anything. Not right now. They’ll figure this out as they go.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want, you can always drop by and say hi to me on tumblr! My 5sos blog is infamoushalsey.tumblr.com and my main one is falling-idols.tumblr.com :)


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